


Certain Peace

by Oilan



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Teasing, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/pseuds/Oilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Enjolras' absence from Paris for an entire month, both he and Combeferre are pleased that he is home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certain Peace

Head bent low, Combeferre meticulously finished the shorthand transcription of Enjolras' report as the meeting drew to a close. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Enjolras slip his own notes into the inside of his coat and move toward where Combeferre was seated. Unbidden heat rose in Combeferre's cheeks and he shifted in his chair, ignoring the amused, knowing look Courfeyrac threw him from the neighboring table.

Enjolras had been away from Paris for an entire month. He had, at the end of January, received word from Le Puy-en-Velay that his grand-aunt was severely ill, and so had traveled south to see her. Fortunately it had been merely a minor cold, as Enjolras had detailed in one of his letters to Combeferre, and her manservant had worried needlessly. Despite seemingly having traveled away for nothing, Enjolras had not wasted his time in his childhood home and had met with several of their contacts there, strengthening their ties with the nascent political groups in the area. In his last letter he had asked Combeferre to call a meeting for the evening of his return and had arrived at the Musain with his luggage, not having taken the time to return to his lodgings before relaying the information he had acquired.

Though his travels had been unexpectedly productive, Enjolras' absence was keenly felt, and Combeferre did not realize how much it had been until Enjolras had entered the backroom, tired and slightly rumpled from the carriage ride, but with a smile to spare for him before the meeting began.

Presently, Combeferre carefully blotted his completed notes and looked up at Enjolras, gazing down at him, warmth behind his level expression. Almost immediately, Combeferre's shoulders relaxed.

“Welcome back. I trust your aunt is well?”

Enjolras nodded. “She's recovering nicely- it was only a cold, as I said.”

They were silent for another moment, a peace settling over them. To Combeferre's right, Joly looked as though he was about to invite the pair to sit with him and Bossuet, but was neatly intercepted by Courfeyrac. Grateful, Combeferre tucked his papers away and stood, reaching out to take Enjolras' carpet bag from him. Enjolras did not protest, and thanks to Courfeyrac's distraction, they were able to slip out of the Musain without any notice or fuss.

Content with being led for a time, Enjolras linked his arm with Combeferre's as they walked toward his flat in comfortable silence, the sun sinking low and red behind the buildings. Combeferre glanced at him. He appeared to have lapsed into a weary sort of contemplation- not an unusual occurrence when he was especially tired. Combeferre smiled privately.

The pair reached the Rue des Marais after a short while and slowly walked up the stairs to Enjolras' landing. In a few more minutes, they could curl up together under the bedclothes and fall asleep- something Combeferre had missed as much as their debates, conversations, and meals with Courfeyrac in Enjolras' absence. Combeferre, after noticing Enjolras' weariness, expected nothing more. He pulled out his spare set of keys as they reached Enjolras' door.

As he fumbled with the lock, Enjolras moved in close behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist so that Combeferre was enclosed in the small space between the door and Enjolras' body. His hand on the doorknob stilled as Enjolras leaned in to gently nuzzle behind his ear, and press a delicate kiss there. Even this small gesture of affection made Combeferre dizzy.

Combeferre savored that peaceful embrace for another moment before turning the doorknob and ushering Enjolras inside. The instant the door had closed behind them, Enjolras threaded his fingers through Combeferre's hair, pressing him to the wall, their hats and Enjolras' bag knocked to the floor. Enjolras kissed him deeply, only once, and then knelt.

With gentle movements that so heavily contrasted with Combeferre's heart, pounding with sudden anticipation, Enjolras pushed aside the folds of Combeferre's frock coat to unbutton his trousers and draw out his prick. Caught off guard by this forwardness, Combeferre shivered as Enjolras leaned forward to fold his lips over him, soft and unhurried. Combeferre, surprise ebbing away, relaxed against the doorframe and let the building pleasure wash over him, breathing harsh in the silence. He motioned to brush the hair back from Enjolras' forehead, but Enjolras pulled off and stood once more. He kissed Combeferre again, much too gently.

“Wait. Let me start the fire.”

Mildly dazed, Combeferre watched him cross the small room to kneel before the stove. It took a moment to recover himself, but Combeferre managed to fumble his trousers closed again and move away from the door. Enjolras had busied himself with piling wood inside of the furnace with much more care than was needed, taking each piece and arranging it with unnecessary precision. Perplexed, he moved closer, but following a glance Enjolras cast him over his shoulder, Combeferre understood. Even after all these weeks apart, Enjolras had decided to tease him, to frustrate him by prolonging this anticipation. Combeferre let out a small huff of mingled annoyance and amusement.

While Enjolras continued to place wood in the stove, his back to the room, Combeferre strode to the bed in the corner to light the candle on the nightstand, and then undressed until he was standing in only his shirt and trousers. Enjolras, occupied with stoking the fire, took no notice of him until Combeferre padded up quietly behind him and reached out a hand to comb his hair out of the way, exposing one side of Enjolras' face and neck. He leaned into Combeferre's touch with a quiet sigh, and Combeferre was immensely pleased with the way this simple touch could make Enjolras' steady hands tremble.

At last, Enjolras rose and turned to face him, lit from the firelight behind him in a way that made the breath catch in Combeferre's chest. He allowed Combeferre to undress him slowly, standing still as his scarf and cravat were undone, as his tailcoat and vest were slipped off and draped over the desk chair. He shivered slightly as Combeferre lifted the shirt over his head, and let out a quiet sound when Combeferre stroked a hand over his bare side.

Their lips met again, soft and warm, and Combeferre's hand traveled downward to cup Enjolras over the fabric of his trousers, rubbing over the length of him slowly, pressing with the heel of his palm. Enjolras let out another noise, slightly louder this time, and tucked his face into the crook of Combeferre's shoulder to kiss it with a tenderness that made Combeferre's thoughts grow hazy. Combeferre found himself being gently pushed backward onto the bed where Enjolras, after divesting himself of his trousers, removed the remainder of Combeferre's clothing and climbed astride him.

For a moment Enjolras did not do anything, merely leaning over Combeferre and looking down at him almost appraisingly, as though deciding upon one of the many courses of action possible to him. Finally, he smiled and leaned down for a kiss, one hand coming to rest at Combeferre's hip, thumb stroking lightly over his skin. Combeferre arched up into the touch impatiently, but Enjolras only moved his lips to the side of Combeferre's neck, kissing tenderly there before moving along his collarbone, a place that easily made Combeferre lose all composure. Here, the kisses were more drawn out, punctuated occasionally by a gentle scrape of teeth, the sensations eliciting a hushed moan. Gasping quietly and hoping to speed Enjolras' actions, Combeferre motioned downward to stroke Enjolras, who appeared almost painfully hard, but his hand was brushed away. Combeferre's defeated noise was muffled with another kiss.

The teasing press of lips and light touches were quickly becoming too much, the sweet anticipation in the pit of Combeferre's stomach devolving into a maddening ache. He arched up again in vexation and this time, Enjolras relented. The hand on Combeferre's hip moved to curl around his prick instead, stroking slowly but firmly, the sensation simultaneously better and worse than nothing at all. Combeferre wrapped his arms around Enjolras and muffled a groan tinged with both appreciation and further frustration into his shoulder.

At length Enjolras began to quicken his pace and Combeferre suspected it was as much for his own benefit as it was for Combeferre's. The kisses he was still pressing to Combeferre's lips and neck became hotter and open mouthed; the movement of his hand, though still slightly too slow, became gradually faster, thumb sometimes swiping over the wetness at the tip, sometimes circling over a spot just under the head that made Combeferre squirm and gasp. Eventually though, Combeferre felt the tightness inside him building, and he thrust upwards, half expecting Enjolras to pull his hand away. Enjolras instead stroked him faster and bit lightly into the crook of his shoulder, and at last the tension inside Combeferre burst into a wave of pleasure strong enough to blot out the world around him.

Hazily, he came back to himself, gasping for breath and exhausted. Enjolras was curled flush against his side, shaking slightly from prolonged arousal but somehow still patient, letting Combeferre recover. Breathing returning to normal, Combeferre turned his head to exchanged several slow kisses with him, Enjolras quickly becoming more urgent and though he had half a mind to tease Enjolras with too-light touches, Combeferre took pity on him. Kissing him more deeply, Combeferre placed a gentle hand on Enjolras' shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

Already, Enjolras was panting shallowly. Combeferre pressed his lips to the center of his chest, then moving to trail more kisses down the line of his stomach, across one hip, up the inside of his thigh. Enjolras shifted beneath him, as impatient as Combeferre had been, and Combeferre positioned himself between Enjolras' legs, leaning down to take the tip of him into his mouth, one hand stroking the rest of him. Enjolras let out a small sigh- a quiet, relieved sound. The fingers of one hand threaded themselves into Combeferre's hair, not holding or guiding him in any way, but as a steady anchor. Combeferre reached up to grasp Enjolras' free hand, and Enjolras held on gratefully.

Combeferre settled down and closed his eyes, moving in an even rhythm, not too slow or fast, listening to Enjolras' breathing become increasingly more ragged. At the last minute, when the muscles in Enjolras' stomach were tight and his grip on Combeferre's hand was nearly painful, he pulled off and sat up, hand still working along Enjolras' length. Combeferre always enjoyed the sight of him – flushed, his blond hair fanned messily over the pillow and sticking to his damp forehead – enjoyed watching the pleasure mount steadily until Enjolras' head tipped back and he came, gasping, fingers curled in the bedsheets. Combeferre stroked him through it, and afterwards, until Enjolras, overly sensitive, twitched in discomfort.

They had long since taken to keeping old rags and handkerchiefs in the drawer of Enjolras' bedside table and Combeferre, weariness creeping up on him, was thankful for it. He pulled one out and cleaned himself and Enjolras to the best of his ability. Enjolras was already most of the way to sleep, exertions of the day finally overcoming him.

After setting aside the soiled rag and pulling the softest blanket over Enjolras, Combeferre gazed down at him for a moment, propped on one arm. Enjolras, sated and tired, was a sight Combeferre took care to savor. All of his stoicism and austerity had fallen away and was replaced by a sleepy sort of peacefulness that made something in Combeferre's chest tighten. Enjolras gazed up at him blearily and smiled, reaching to cup the side of Combeferre's face.

“I've missed you.”

Combeferre swallowed hard, and bent down to kiss his cheek.

“Yes. I've missed you too.”


End file.
